


Take a Look at Me Now

by KaRaEa



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Flagrant Abuse of Queen's Discography, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, The Bentley Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19121287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaRaEa/pseuds/KaRaEa
Summary: Crowley doesn't consciously think about it, there's no need to. The car does all the work. Anything left for more than two weeks is Queen, no exceptions. Even his Mozart CD only lasted ten days after the Almost-Apocalypse. That said, he does occasionally stock some new CDs, so he doesn't immediately notice when It happens.It being the new music.





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley doesn't consciously think about it, there's no need to. The car does all the work. Anything left for more than two weeks is Queen, no exceptions. Even his Mozart CD only lasted ten days after the Almost-Apocalypse. That said, he does occasionally stock some new CDs, so he doesn't immediately notice when It happens.

It being the new music.

At first it's still Queen, but instead of cycling through the Greatest Hits album it's the same few tracks over and over. The car has a habit of playing the songs not exactly in the order of the track listing, so again, Crowley's suspicions aren't aroused. Even if he's listened to nothing but 'Love of My Life', 'I Was Born to Love You' and 'You're My Best Friend' for the last five days. 

"Angel," Crowley greets on his next visit to St James' Park. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale says politely. 

Crowley splays over the bench, hardly noticing as his fingers scrape the back of Aziraphale's coat. "So what's the goss then? Any rumblings from upstairs or are we still in the clear?"

Aziraphale frowns, probably at either Crowley's casual tone or his use of colloquialisms. "No. Nothing yet."

"Nothing from my lot, either. Not that I'd be told if there was," Crowley says. 

There's an empty spot for the next thirty seconds that try as he might, Crowley can't seem to fill. He never usually has this problem, but it seems that once he and Aziraphale started seeing each other more than a few times a decade, they started running out of conversation topics. While there was the apocalypse to worry about and a false-Antichrist to groom it was never really an issue, but now they have these... gaps.

"I'd best be off," Aziraphale says finally.

Despite the quiet, Crowley's reluctant to say goodbye just yet. "Lunch?"

"No," Aziraphale says softly. "I don't think so. Lots of inventory to do, you know. Whole new lot of books."

Crowley sniffs and waits until Aziraphale's halfway out of the park before heading back to the Bentley. 

He's too distracted forcibly ignoring his disappointment to notice when Phil Collin's 'Against All Odds' starts playing.

Next time they do have lunch, but Aziraphale cuts it short, using the shop as an excuse yet again. Like the lazy, hoarding bastard was ever concerned with actually selling books.

This time it's Chris Isaac's 'Wicked Game' that the car settles on, and Crowley turns it off.

He finally starts to notice after Aziraphale doesn't turn up to their next check in, only answering Crowley's panicked phonecall with a distracted "oh, dreadfully sorry. I completely forgot", and the car decides what he really should listen to is Dusty Bloody Springfield's 'You Don't Have To Say You Love Me' which isn't even close to the right era or genre to be something Crowley might feasibly have on a CD somewhere.

"Alright, knock it off," Crowley growls at his car with implicit threat.

The track switches to Bon Jovi's 'Always'. Closer, but still...

"If you don't want me to rip off your tires and go at your lovely leather seats with a carpet knife, you'll stop," Crowley says, smooth and dangerous this time.

The music finally goes back to Queen, and if it's 'Save Me' that plays, Freddie Mercury's perfect tones crooning for rescue from a broken heart, Crowley chooses to ignore it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of maybe doing another one from Aziraphale's point of view to explain his side of things a little better, but we'll see.

Overcome with the inevitable cravings brought on by driving past a fish and chip shop, Aziraphale convinces Crowley to go in and buy them some to have with their wine. Not that Crowley minds. He's been hoping for the whole ride that Aziraphale won't notice the car playing all too appropriate love songs and and is somewhat relieved to escape it for a second. It's been a full month since he last spent this much time with Aziraphale, and the Bentley is all to happy to tell the angel exactly how he feels about that.

He isn't so relieved when he climbs back, warm, vinegary bag in hand, to find Aziraphale coughing and blushing as the CD player croons the opening to 'The Glory of Love'.

"Crowley, I..." Aziraphale coughs again and beams brightly at the food. Too brightly.

 _"Tell him that you're never gonna leave him, tell him that you're always gonna love him..."_ The car plays.

Crowley violently presses the power button.

"Perhaps we should leave dinner for today," Aziraphale says when they pull up outside the bookshop. "You should keep the food."

And _"I think I better leave right now, before I fall any deeper. I think I better leave right now, feeling weaker and weaker..."_ The car plays.

At the look on Aziraphale's face in response Crowley begins to suspect something.

"Wait," Crowley says before Aziraphale can escape the car. 

The Bentley decides now is the perfect time for P!nk's 'Please Don't Leave Me'.

Aziraphale frowns. "Is something wring with your music player?"

Crowley glares at the CD player to no effect.

"Only it's been..." Aziraphale trails off uncomfortably.

Crowley's eyes narrow in thought. "What songs did it play while I was in the chip shop?"

"Oh, well. Um. I don't know, really," Aziraphale flusters. "I'm not all that well versed on all your new 'jams', as it were."

Crowley mouths 'jams' to himself, then shakes his head, dismissing the thought. "Well, what were some of the lyrics?"

Aziraphale grows even more uncomfortable and Crowley's suspicions grow.

"'Ziraphale?" He presses.

Aziraphale sighs in feigned annoyance. "I really don't remember. I wan't paying attention."

Crowley raises one eyebrow and stares him down over his sunglasses.

Another sigh, this one more defeated. "I believe one of them was from a musical about Jesus Christ. 'I Know Him So Well'. The others I didn't recognise. Something along the lines of, um, let's see... 'every time I'm close to you, there's too much I can't say, and you just walk away'. Another one where they said, or sang rather, 'it's too cliche, I won't say I'm... Um, something. I can't remember the rest."

Crowley racks his not inconsiderable musical knowledge. "So you got weepy Canadian women and musicals?"

"I didn't get anything," Aziraphale says with a denying sniff. "You car was playing them."

"Uhuh," Crowley says. He looks the angel over for a moment more. "You know, I have this theory-"

_"I've got a theory that it's a demon. A dancing demon.... nah, something isn't right there...."_

"Shut up," Crowley snaps at the Bentley and jabs the power button to turn it off yet again. "I think the Bentley is..." Somehow it's harder to verbalise than it is to think. The idea of revealing that the reason the car has been serenading Aziraphale with love songs this whole time is because it thinks Crowley should be serenading him (and vice versa) makes him want to never stop cringing.

"I know," Aziraphale says quietly. "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Crowley repeats. "Hang on. I think we skipped a bit. I was saying I think the car is playing what it thinks we should be saying and you apologised."

"Yes."

"Why?"

 Aziraphale just looks uncomfortable. 

Crowley presses the power button to turn the stereo back on (not that it seems to need to be turned on when it really wants to mortify him). 

 _"_ _I was born to love you, w_ _ith every single beat of my heart._ _Yes, I was born to take care of you, honey._ _Every single day of my life._ _I wanna love you._ _I love every little thing about you._ _I wanna love you, love you, love you..."_

Aziraphale frowns at the stereo.

"Get it?" Crowley asks.

After a moment Aziraphale moves his frown to Crowley's face. "You're saying... this is what the car thinks _you_ should be saying?"

Crowley nods just once, eyebrows raised to redirect his embarrassment onto Aziraphale for not getting it sooner.

"You really...?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale shifts in the seat to face front again. "You mean...?"

" _Yes._ Do you need me to sing it to you or something?" Crowley says sarcastically, regretting it when Aziraphale looks like yes, he would very much like Crowley to sing to him. "Oh for... I... You're..." He gives up. The humans have a rather effective way of getting this particular point across, so he utilizes it. 

"Oh," Aziraphale says into his mouth, sound quashed and distorted as Crowley's snaked tongue finds its way past his lips. 

It's... odd. Crowley never really saw the point in this kind of thing before. He's never been as much of a hedonist as Aziraphale, preferring the subtler evils and manipulations to the ones of the flesh. But this is nice. He can almost imagine why so many humans have done such truly stupid things for this. 

Neither of them really needs to breathe, but they do eventually part again, both looking pleased and curious, Aziraphale looking a little rumpled in a way that makes Crowley never want to see him not-rumpled again. 

Aziraphale coughs. "Well. That was..."

"Yeah," Crowley agrees. 

They sit in silence for a moment, contemplating what they've just done, what it implies. They never even acknowledged their friendship before the apocalypse, let alone this aspect of their relationship. But it feels right. It feels right that it's now, too. Now that they're free and they're on their own side. Now that there is no end of the world (that's planned anyway) and now that they can just... live. 

"Chips," Aziraphale reminds them both.

"Right."

"Wine?"

Crowley smiles, snake like. "Absolutely."


End file.
